A Crack in the Ice
by hecatemus
Summary: The Wizarding world now knows that Voldemort has returned. Harry knows he will need to secure allies in unexpected places in order to survive the final battle with the Dark Lord.
1. Correspondence

**Disclaimer:** It isn't mine and I make NO money from this. Copyright to their respective owners, etc…

**Reviews: **It just makes sense. Review this please, it allows me to improve and you to enjoy it more!

**A Crack in the Ice**

"And with that, let us eat!"

Headmaster Dumbledore finished his start of year speech with usual flair, clapping his hands and signalling the start of the feast. Ronald Weasley wasted no time in grabbing vast amounts of food and piling his plate impossibly high, whilst a disapproving Hermione Granger looked on with a mix of despair and disgust.

Harry Potter laughed to himself as he saw this. All through summer Ron had eaten with wild abandon, and he showed no sign of slowing down any time soon. Harry was sure Hermione had tried to curb his vulgar eating habits, but to no apparent avail. He pulled a piece of chicken onto his own plate, poured a goblet of pumpkin juice, and settled in to eat.

"Harry, have you had any thoughts on how we are going to get to the people on our list?" Hermione said from his right. Over the summer, all three of them had sat down to discuss what could be done now that the Wizarding World knew Voldemort had returned. It was the students at Hogwarts which captured their concern, more specifically the children of known Death Eaters. Ron had been entirely sceptical at first, his temper getting the better of him, and they had argued for days before Hermione made him see reason.

"Ere 'Arry, wa bou' Veri'aseru" Ron said, through a mouthful of sausage and mash.

"Ronald Weasley that is disgusting! Don't you ever STOP eating?" Hermione glared at him.

"Sorry Mione" he murmured, having finally swallowed his food.

"Veritaserum wouldn't persuade them Ron, that would just let us know who was really with Voldemort" Ron looked a little defeated at that, and proceeded to shove another sausage in his mouth.

"I've had an idea Harry" Hermione took a piece of parchment from under the table. Harry looked over it, and found it to be an invitation for a neutral meeting, as per the pureblood code of conduct. Harry passed it on to Ron.

"That's a good idea, but they would never agree to a meeting if they knew it was US organising it. And for the ritual to work properly, we would need to identify ourselves in the invite." Ron passed the invitation back to Hermione, who in turn looked defeated. Harry could see some potential in the idea.

"Hermione, is there a spell to discretely message someone, and keep your identity hidden?" If he could arouse the Slytherins collective interest, they would meet out of sheer curiosity.

Hermione quickly took out a heavy book of charms and began to rifle through. Ron tutted about her reading at the dinner table, something he had been trying to curb her of during the holidays. Harry just laughed.

~x~

Harry snorted in frustration. He was trying to crush a living Hive Beetle to add into a particularly tedious potion that Snape had assigned the class. Taking a quick peek around the room, he noticed that Hermione was already four steps ahead of him, and that Malfoy had already finished. His workstation was now bare as he packed his things away. Harry was sure that Malfoy got special treatment in potions, not least because Snape was his head of house and Godfather.

Malfoy noticed Harry looking, and sent a sneer his way. His eyes flitted to the still scuttling Beetle on Harry's desk, before turning back to his own desk and taking out a book to read. Harry glared after him for a moment, before turning his attention once more to his Beetle. He noticed that it had stopped moving, though the legs were still trying to move. Did Malfoy just help him? He crushed the Beetle and carried on with his potion.

Towards the end of the lesson, and once Harry had finally finished his potion, he took another look around the room. Hermione had gotten stuck on adding the lacewing flies in correctly, and Neville – how had Neville even gotten into Advanced Potions? – Neville's cauldron had exploded. Malfoy still had his head in his book. His book. Harry had an idea.

He took his wand and potions book out, and then scribbled a message on a blank page.

_Meet me, Owlery, midnight tonight. Come alone. We need to talk. I won't tell your father._

_Tap this with your wand to accept. _

Silently thanking Hermione, Harry cast the spell she had spent the previous evening teaching him. As the person who knew Malfoy best, and even Ron had to admit that his best friend was interested to the point of obsession, Harry was the best placed to know when to send the message. He tried to feign disinterest whilst looking round the room. Malfoy had to have got it by now. Looking at the Slytherin, he couldn't see anything that even resembled recognition or comprehension. That must be his mask. He looked back at his book and found the note glowing green. He hadn't even seen Malfoy reach for his wand! Underneath Harry's writing, a new set was appearing.

_I accept. Destroy this evidence._

Harry snorted. _That_ was typical Malfoy. He was brought out of his musings by a voice at his ear

"I trust your little love notes are not distracting you from your studies Mr Potter." He made to turn around, only to have the potions master continue, "No boy, there is no need to interrupt your classmates with your inane babbling. As it happens, Dumbledore did inform me of your little list. Yes Potter we know about it, don't go getting your wand in a knot," Harry could feel him smirking, "and you could do worse than to follow Malfoy's instructions. There are certain things that would best be kept _secret_. Do you know what that means?" Before Harry could answer, Snape was standing before his cauldron. In a voice loud enough for the class to hear, Snape graded his attempt 'barely passable' and 'not completely without merit'. It was the closest to a compliment that he could hope for in this particular subject.

~x~

Harry sat waiting under his invisibility cloak in the eaves of the Owlery. He cast a quick _Tempus_ and it told him that the time was five minutes past midnight. Malfoy was predictably late. Perhaps he had only accepted to trap him; that any minute now Lucius and a whole group of Death Eaters would come around the corner and turn him over to Voldemort. He shook his head. He knew Malfoy, and had watched him closely enough to know that wasn't the case. The way his eyes would widen whenever his father's Eagle Owl landed on his table, and how he would hesitate before opening the various missives. Even those who shared his house didn't know him like Harry did. He heard the sounds of footsteps making their way up the staircase. It must be Malfoy. But what if it wasn't? Suddenly Harry felt unsure. Had he made a mistake in adding him to the list? Dumbledore would approve of the outreach to be sure, but he doubted that he could be as persuasive as the headmaster. But he had to try, and as Hermione put it, he had to have faith.

"Potter I know you are in here. Most probably under that stupid cloak of yours. There's no need to freak out, I'm alone." Came the smooth drawl of Draco Malfoy. He stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, locking it with several secrecy charms. "We can't have anybody interrupting us, can we?" Harry slid his wand up his sleeve, just in case, and removed his invisibility cloak.

"How did you know it was me?" Harry was _sure_ that he had covered his own tracks. Malfoy actually sighed under his breath.

"I'm not an idiot. I can tell when you are planning something Potter, you get this look in your eyes. And as for your little note in Potions, I saw Mu..Granger researching the spell yesterday afternoon. You really should learn how to keep things secret. Though I guess Gryffindors really ARE as stupid as they look!"

"You don't fool me Malfoy. This whole arrogant act is just an act. Leave it at the door, I want to talk to you, not Lucius!" Harry smirked as Draco seethed. He took a moment to shrug it off, before once more his customary mask slipped over his face.

"Then please start talking, I told the other Slytherins I was going to find Pansy on her prefect rounds if you know what I mean," He punctuated this with a wiggle of his eyebrows, "imagine what they would say if they knew who I was _really_ meeting!" Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure how to go about saying this, so I may as well just come out with it. I see how you react when you get letters from your father, how you hesitate before opening them. You're afraid of him. I want to tell..."

"You want to tell me there is another way Potter? There is another choice perhaps? I don't think you know me at all if that's the case. I certainly _know_ my options. Like any Slytherin, I am perfectly aware that there are two sides in this war. And Dumbledore is a Muggle-loving fool who thinks that integration is the only way to save the Wizarding world!" Draco walked over to the window and looked out into the night, "What you don't get, what nobody on your side gets really, is that there is an order to Voldemort that isn't obvious unless you are looking for it. Dumbledore and the Order are too busy reacting to his attacks that they can't see it. Even my father," Draco gulped and placed his hand on the windowsill, "even my father cannot see it. But I do. There is no stopping him, no changing his mind or no tempering him. But there is still an order. A new order. One that I will be a part of." Harry simply looked on as he traced the brickwork with his hand. Did Malfoy even know what he was talking about? He suspected that this was all a part of his mask.

"Malfoy, that is the most delusional piece of rubbish you have ever come out with! I don't believe it for a second and I don't think you do either!" He had the grace to momentarily look abashed before he caught himself.

"Potter, you can never understand how it feels to live in your father's shadow. Don't try to understand me, and don't try to change me!" He tried to walk past Harry, but the Gryffindor flung his arm out and caught him. This was not going the way he had planned it! Harry wanted to grab him and shake him until he saw sense, until he agreed that what he was saying was lunacy.

"Why do you even care so much Potter? You have your side and I have mine. Did you choose your parents? Did you choose to be the Boy-Who-Lived?" He had tried to school his face into a blank canvas, but Harry knew him better. Malfoy had a look of despair in his eyes.

"I didn't choose those things then, but I choose it now. I choose to be my parent's child, I choose to be the one Voldemort couldn't kill. There is always a choice Draco. I could just lie down and let Voldemort finish me off, or I could deny my parents and refuse to fight, but what would that make me? Where is the honour in not fighting for a good cause? The question is do you choose to be your father's son? Do you choose your own life or Lucius' plans? Do you choose to honour a man who would kill you without a moment's hesitation or honour those that have died with goodness in them? Are you your father's son?" With each word Draco was paling more visibly. Harry had him. It was clear that Draco was scared, that he wanted his own life, but the power that Lucius held over his son was dividing his conscience.

"But, what about Voldemort's new order? If we allow mudbloods into our society there will be nothing left but weak magic, too weak to defend ourselves!" Draco was desperately clinging on at this point, and Harry knew that it was just for show. His own feelings were skyrocketing too, his hands were sweaty and his heart was racing. Why was he so passionate about this?

"Voldemort will tear down everything until there is nothing left! No Wizarding world, no society, no Gringotts, no purebloods and no Magic! Can you not see that? There will be no 'New Order' just his order! Even a Slytherin must see how terrible that will be, and I refuse to believe that you don't care. You do care Malfoy, you care a hell of a lot more than you are willing to admit!" Draco sniffed at this, "You have friends in Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff! Yes _friends!_ Don't look so surprised! Friends, good friends who wouldn't be here under this 'New Order'.You are nothing like your father, despite what you want everyone else to believe. I want you to join us Draco, I need to believe that there is something worth saving. I have to kill Voldemort and I will, I just want to do it on my own!" Harry was shouting now, his face red and eyes alive with passion, "You are not your father."

"I..I.. I have to go Po… Harry. I have to go." Malfoy staggered back to the door, flicking his wand as he did so. It opened and he ran out of the room, leaving Harry on his own in the deserted Owlery.

Harry slumped and sat until he lost track of time. If he couldn't persuade somebody who wanted to be persuaded, how could he persuade everybody else to follow him? After a while the sun rose through the window, the amber hues warming him, throwing light off his sparkling cloak. The dawn, providing a poignant counter to his melancholy. The sound of flapping wings brought his attention to an owl landing nearby. It was Hedwig.

"Hey girl" Harry smiled at her, and she hopped onto his leg. He stroked her beak and she gave it an affectionate nip. Then she held her leg up, showing a tiny roll of parchment. Surely Hermione wasn't worried already? He opened it, but it was blank. He turned it over, but the other side was also writing free. He took his wand out and tapped it to the parchment. Sure enough writing started to form.

_Potter. I hate myself for writing this, but you are right. I am my own person. The only order is one that I want to create for myself, and I choose not to be what Lucius wants. But I also choose not to be what you want._

_Next time, let's start by saying hi. The Three Broomsticks, midday, next Hogsmeade weekend._

_I'd like to get to know you. Who knows, maybe I'd like you. _

_Get that silly grin off your face Potter you're making me smile at the table and Malfoys NEVER smile in public._

_Tap this with your wand to accept._

_PS: Destroy this._


	2. The Three Broomsticks

**Disclaimer:** It isn't mine and I make NO money from this. Copyright to their respective owners, etc…

**Reviews: **It just makes sense. Review this please, it allows me to improve and you to enjoy it more!

**Authors Note: **I wasn't planning on making this a multi-chap, but the scene was itching to be written and I couldn't find the will to say no to my muse! I AM planning a long story with this, so let's see where it goes eh?

Chapter Two

The Three Broomsticks

Potter was late. Not that he had expected to show up exactly on time anyway, but Draco thought that twenty minutes was a metaphorical slap in the face. Why he had even agreed to meet the pathetic Gryffindor in the first place was a mystery. Well sort of a mystery. He did like to hear the inane prattle Potter insisted on bringing to every conversation, it was somewhat endearing. He most certainly wouldn't admit that to anybody, especially Potter. Best get to know him a little, discover things that friends might know about each other, instead of things rivals and potential obsessive stalkers knew.

Madame Rosmerta bustled over, collecting glasses and chatting with the regulars. Draco waited for a free moment and waved her over.

"Rosmerta, when you have a free minute can you replace these glasses? I'll pay for the extra butterbeers, it's just they have gone flat." He was always polite, especially to the people supplying him with alcohol.

"Of course dear. It must be someone real special t'keep a Malfoy waiting for this long, eh?" she flashed a cheeky wink and took the glasses from his table. Someone special indeed. Malfoy mentally sneered, Potter special? Not for all the galleons in Gringotts! The pub was filled with Hogwarts students, keen to spend their money on a weekend of freedom. The noise was almost deafening, even with a muffliato case around his table. He could see Ron Weasley in the corner, stupidly challenging Hagrid to a Firewhisky drinking game. How he could even afford Firewhisky was yet another mystery. Potter must have given him some money. Where was that infernal man anyway? His best friend was inside, which meant that Potter should be nearby. It was like some unwritten code, the Golden Trio always stuck together. Even Mudblood was in here somewhere, probably helping to finance Weasley's latest foolish foray into popularity.

"Sorry I'm late Malfoy, I-"

"-Kept me waiting for nearly half an hour. Sit, Rosmerta is bringing over another drink." Potter looked dishevelled. His cheeks were red and his hair ridiculously windswept. Merlin he needed a decent Hairdresser. He had the grace to look abashed as he sat down, eyes darting around the room. Probably looking for a quick exit should things turn ugly. Rosmerta returned with two frothing tankards of butterbeer, placing them down with a heavy thud! She looked at the table's latest occupant, back to Draco and gave him yet another wink.

"Harry Potter no less!" As she walked off, Draco swore he caught her swishing her wand. Potter wasted no time in grabbing his drink, gulping it down like he was dying of thirst. He wiped the foam it left on his face with a sleeve.

"So, erm, hi?" Good, Potter was just as nervous as him.

"Shall we start with why you're late?" Draco looked at his watch to emphasise the point. Potter…Harry – he should really start calling him that – went red once more.

"Dumbledore kept me…asked me questions…anyway aren't we meant to be getting to know each other?" Harry took another swig of his drink, putting the tankard down next to the vase of flowers growing on the table. Flowers? That dratted barwoman! Draco had left the table intentionally blank. A neutral setting. He took his wand out and pointed it at the offending article.

"Don't get rid of them Malfoy, I like them. They're lilies. Please?" Why did Harry always have to sound so persuasive? And his obsession with symbolism was near dangerous levels. Draco knew that Harry's mother was called Lily.

"They are just flowers Potter, not even my idea. Rosmerta," he nodded in her direction, "thought it would be incredibly 'sweet' to do that. She thinks we're on a date Potter!" He smirked as he watched Harry's face flush again. That must be a standard reaction, red in the face or seeing red. Which pretty much summarised most of Gryffindor house. Maybe there was reasoning behind the house colours. He did lower his wand though, out of respect. The flowers didn't mean anything. They were just flowers after all.

"Well we aren't on a date Malfoy. We're just getting to know each other. I don't even-"

"You don't need to justify yourself to me Potter, I was the one who arranged this whatever this is," he gestured around him, and Harry looked shocked, "but not a date!" They both laughed.

The next hour was spent exchanging small talk; stories of lessons, favourite colours, and things that people generally spoke about. Draco was having quite an enjoyable time, though he would deny any such thing under questioning. He could see Weasley from the corner of his eye losing terribly to Hagrid. He pointed this out to Harry, who snickered.

"It's not the first time he's challenged Hagrid, but he just ignores me and Hermione when we tell him. Who would try and drink a half-giant under the table?" he said. Draco agreed wholeheartedly.

"So Potter, what was it that Dumbledore was questioning you about? Don't think I've forgotten that you kept me waiting for nearly half an hour." Draco folded his arms and looked down his nose in what he assumed was an imposing manner.

"Harry." He said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name is Harry. Please use it."

"I don't think that one dat..daytime meeting is enough to be on first name basis Potter. So tell me, what was he questioning you about? Or am I not allowed to know?" He thought he'd got away with that, but the look on Harry's face told him differently. These flowers must be affecting his mind. Merlin help him.

"Well Malfoy if you insist on knowing, he was questioning me about you!"

"Me? Why would the old coot ask about me? Unless you see this as another attempt to change me! Well do you?" Harry was silent. "HOW DARE YOU POTTER! All of this is just a ruse? You don't really want to be my friend, you just want to 'take one from Voldemort' – so all this talk is just a means to an end for you? Well, speak!" Draco was livid. Of all the tricks to pull, using his own invitation against him was a dent in his pride. He was willing to be friends with Potter, actual friends. Maybe even… well that didn't matter now. Potter was Dumbledore's through and through.

"Malfoy, that wasn't –"

"I don't want to know what it was Potter. I'm leaving!" Draco stood up, and in one swift movement slung a withering spell at the flowers. He strode towards the door, looking over his shoulder to see Potter staring forlornly at the pile of ash on the table. Lilies indeed.

~#~

Whoever said that fresh air did wonders for a mood are lying hypocrites, Draco thought. He had walked back to the castle, becoming steadily more enraged. Even the giant squid, who was lounging on the shore of the lake, recoiled as Draco passed. He passed the great hall, turning to go down into the dungeons, and promptly collided with a figure coming the other way.

"Sorry" he mumbled, not looking up.

"Draco my boy, it's quite alright. I trust your Hogsmeade trip went well?" Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco would have laughed at the irony of the situation, if he wasn't so angry.

"You should know sir, you engineered it after all!"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean Mr Malfoy." Dumbledore looked concerned. He was sticking to his story then.

"I spoke to Potter in the Three Broomsticks. He was half an hour late because you two were planning to 'convert me'!" Draco pushed his hand away and stormed down the corridor. He needed his room, his space. He needed to be out of hexing range of the Headmaster.

"Draco, did you ask Harry about what we discussed? I can assure you that there was no mention of 'converting' you to anything." He sounded sincere, but he always did. Draco span round on his heel.

"Then what DID you ask about me? You are interfering in my life sir, whilst Potter might let you, I certainly WON'T!" His hand twitched towards his wand, but knew he would have no chance. Dumbledore, as ever, remained perfectly calm. There was a twinkle in his eye. Perhaps this wasn't what it seemed.

"Draco, whilst your bravery is admirable, I would consider it misplaced. There is no need for you to be angry at either Mr Potter or myself. He came to me with something of I dilemma. He was meeting a fellow student in Hogsmeade, and didn't know how to act around them without an argument breaking out. I deduced that it must be you, and so I asked him why he was meeting you. That is all. Harry does not want to convert you to anything My Malfoy." Draco could feel his anger ebbing away, so he had just blown up at Potter for no reason. Malfoys NEVER lose composure. His shoulders slumped and he looked the Headmaster in the eyes.

"I'm sorry Professor, for shouting at you. I should retire to my chambers, cool off somewhat." Dumbledore just smiled and nodded. Draco walked to the end of the corridor, and was about to turn, when Dumbledore called from behind him.

"Though now I think on it Mr Malfoy, I am curious as to why Harry referred to your meeting as a date. Three times no less. Oh well, as is life I suppose," Draco stopped dead in his tracks, "did you like the flowers? They were a nice touch, I thought!" Draco blushed.


	3. Quidditch

Chapter Three

**Quidditch**

Harry tried not to look over at the Slytherin table as he ate his breakfast. He could feel Malfoy's glare, as he could for most of the week, but was determined not to rise to it. Harry still felt angry and hurt over the incident at the Three Broomsticks. There was an unpredictability to Malfoy that he both liked and disliked, and it had shown itself in a big way. He had pushed Harry to answer, and then just exploded, jumping to the wrong conclusion. He could see how Malfoy was upset, but even their years of enmity couldn't excuse his reaction. Harry had been studiously avoiding the other boy's scowls ever since. Besides, he would see him enough today as it was; the Quidditchseason was starting, and in a predictable fashion Gryffindor was up against Slytherin.

Harry tried to eat his breakfast, but ended up pushing a runny egg around his plate with a piece of soggy toast. Somehow, he always lost his appetite when there was a game on, but today his thoughts weren't on the snitch. He would be up against Malfoy again, a thought which filled him with dread. He looked around the table, and noticed Ron had no qualms about eating. He was stuffing his face with forkfuls sausages and bacon.

"Good luck today Harry!" Ginny shouted over to him, which prompted several bursts of _good luck _and _crush the slimy snakes!_He nodded back to them, and drank another mouthful of pumpkin juice.

"Harry, I really think you should speak to him today." Hermione sat down next to him, buttering two slices of toast and pouring a cup of tea. "It will only get worse if you don't."

"Thank you Hermione, great encouragement!" He rolled his eyes.

"Oh grow up! Maybe if you lost a game once in a while I might _have_ to encourage you!"

"You see, now that's a little more encouraging!" Harry replied, laughing.

"I'm serious Harry," Hermione said, getting a piece of parchment from her bag, "we both know that the other Slytherins look to him. How are we going to make any progress with this list if you and Malfoy are at each other's throats?" She brandished it at him.

"I don't know." He replied, still prodding the remains of his meal. There was another reason that Harry had been avoiding Malfoy which he wasn't ready to tell Hermione, or anyone, any time soon. He had fumbled over a conversation with the headmaster about meeting him, and was sure he had said the word date. Dumbledore had given nothing away, and Harry mentally cringed at the memory. He still hated Malfoy, got angry every time he opened his stupid Pureblood mouth, but there was a new aspect of his relationship with the Ice Prince of Slytherin. One that woke him with embarrassment in the mornings. No wonder Malfoy thought he was trying to convert him. Today though, he had other things to worry about, Quidditch was looming and he needed to win.

~X~

Rain pelted Harry's face at a furious pace, making it almost impossible for him to see. The game had started in sunshine, but before long the skies had darkened, and then opened. He urged his broom forward, trying to find the snitch an all but futile task in these conditions. He took out his wand, and murmured a spell Hermione had taught him to clear his vision.

"What's the matter, Potter, letting a bit of rain affect your game?" Malfoy flew past, a smug grin fixed firmly on his face. Harry seethed as he noticed that Malfoy was bone dry and running circles round him. Malfoy had taken every chance he could to put Harry off his game, right from the start. Harry had been nervous about shaking hands at the beginning of the match, the first contact he'd had with him in over a week, and Malfoy actually winked at him. Once they were in the air, Malfoy would only have to look his way, and Harry would fumble. Lee Jordan, Quidditch commentator, had wasted no time in calling Malfoy a cheating Slytherin git. It had no effect on Harry's game though, he was spectacularly out-of-form today. A roaring cheer from the Slytherin stands informed him that they had scored, and now held the lead. He had to find the snitch before Malfoy, at any cost.

The rain was coming down even harder now, battering the pitch. Harry looked to Madame Hooch, who was conferring with the headmaster on something. Both teams were playing sluggishly as their robes got steadily wetter. Even the crowds in the bleachers weren't as enthusiastic as normal. A great peal of thunder echoed throughout the grounds, and a torrent of wind swept through in its wake. The crowd gasped, there had never been a thunderstorm during a Quidditch game before. Some of the more excitable younger years started whooping and clapping. Harry could see Malfoy climbing, determination etched on his face. Harry urged his Firebolt forward, chasing the opposing seeker. He was climbing to escape the rain, Harry thought. If he could get high enough, above the clouds, then he would be able to spot the snitch and end the game.

Instead of getting better, the weather only got worse as he climbed. Inside the cloud, thunder echoed, and brilliant flashes of lightning blinded his vision, bleaching everything in a pale hue. The visibility was almost zero. Harry was scared.

"MALFOY!" Harry shouted as he drew alongside him. "YOU HAVE TO TURN BACK!" He tried grabbing Malfoy's broom, but a gust of wind blew them apart. Harry wheeled his broom back, fighting against the air, and pulled level again. Malfoy's eyes were wide, and Harry could see that he was struggling to keep control of his Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

"POTTER!"Malfoy smirked at him, "WHY DO YOU ALWAYS SHOW UP WHEN THERE'S TROUBLE?"

"IS THAT YOUR ATTEMPT AT AN APOLOGY?"

"I'D SAY WE'RE ABOUT EQUAL NOW, DON'T YOU?" Malfoy shot back, slashing his wand through the air, ending the charm which kept him dry. The rain soaked him instantly, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"NO, BUT IT'S A START!" His attempt at wit failing when another flash of lightning knocked Malfoy off course. Harry blinked to regain his vision and saw that pieces of Malfoy's broom were falling, and they were on fire. He franticly searched for the Slytherin, and found him falling to earth, limp. He dived without thinking, battling the wind and rain. He had to get him before he hit the ground. Pushing his broom as fast as it could go, he hurtled towards the ground like a madman, shooting through the bottom of the cloud like a bullet. He flattened himself to gain more speed, urging forward as much as he could. Malfoy's body twisted slightly in the air, which slowed him a fraction. That was all Harry needed. He caught an arm, and swung him over the back of his broom, whilst pulling up as hard as he could. It would be a close call. Harry braced himself to hit the ground, but it never came. His feet barely skimmed the grass of the pitch, and he looked around for the first time. The other students were cheering, Slytherin louder than most, and several teachers were running towards him. He checked behind him to see how Malfoy was, and found the boy awake and grinning weakly. His hand was in the air. Harry stared with disbelief. Malfoy had the Snitch.


	4. Defence Against the Dark Arts

Chapter Four

Defence Against the Dark Arts

"I've heard he's an ogre!"

"Don't be stupid, he's obviously a troll!"

"Dumbledore wouldn't hire a beast-"

"He hired Lupin!"

The chatter in the classroom was driving Harry mad. He was also curious as to the identity of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, but his mind was still in the Hospital Wing, dwelling on Malfoy. He told himself that it was simple concern for a fellow student's well-being, but he knew what a fat lie it was. Madame Pomfrey had told him that Malfoy still didn't remember anything after the lightning had struck him, so Harry had gone to Dumbledore and brought the Snitch that Malfoy had caught to his bedside table. Hopefully, it would jog his memory. Dumbledore had offered to write Harry a letter to excuse his lessons for a day, so he too could recover. He had his trademark twinkle firmly in place as mentioned empty beds in the Hospital Wing, next to a certain student. Harry had blushed furiously as he declined the offer. Ron nudged him, which brought Harry out of his reverie.

"What d'you think Harry?" Ron said, eyeing the classroom door with keen interest.

"Well he couldn't be any worse than Lockhart, can he?" Harry shrugged.

"I think that it's going to be a woman this year," Parvati Patil said, staring dreamily at the teacher's desk, "a powerful Witch showing us how to beat You-Know-Who!"

"Honestly Parvati, a woman teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts? Like _that_ would ever happen," Ron scoffed, "barking is what it is!"

"What would you know Ronald?" She retorted, "_You_ still sleep with a light globe in your curtains!" A few of the other students laughed.

"It's true!" Seamus Finnegan joined in, hitting Ron on the shoulder.

"Bloody big git!" Ron flushed with embarrassment.

Harry laughed along, which earned him a glare from his friend. Hermione was once more watching the door, desperate for a sign of the teacher. Harry snorted; he would bet a sack full of Galleons that she was itching to start learning. He checked his watch, and sure enough the teacher was late. He looked again, and noticed the second hand was stuck. Great, he thought, how long has it been like that? He checked it against the clock in the room. It had stopped at exactly the same time. Something wasn't quite right.

At once, the curtains flung themselves shut and a click sounded from the doorway. The room was locked. Harry was on his feet, wand in hand. This wasn't right at all. The torches flickered out, plunging the room into darkness. Parvati screamed. A chorus of _Lumos_ filled the room, lights blinking into existence, but spluttering out immediately. Harry reacted on pure instinct. He ducked down and left, bringing his wand up.

"Protego! Expecto Patronum!" A stinging hex bounced off his hastily erected shield, and his Patronus burst into the room. The silver light of the stag allowed Harry a dim view of the room. A mass of black smoke was forming in front of the teacher's desk, creeping upward in a grotesque manner. Harry tried a simple _Finite_, but it shot straight through. A flurry of spells volleyed towards Harry, forcing him on the defensive. What in Merlin's name was going on? And where were his classmates? Where were Ron and Hermione? He glanced behind him, and saw a shimmering barrier separating them. Spells were being cast at it from the other side, and Ron was even hitting it with his chair.

For one heart-stopping moment, Harry thought it was Voldemort, but his scar wasn't hurting. Still, whoever it was, they were a grave threat. His Patronus flared and charged, its horns jutting forward for attack. It hit the smoke with a sickening _thwack_ and recoiled. The smoke was taller than Harry now and vaguely resembled a person. Then Harry saw it. He almost laughed as he cast a spell to set a raincloud over the smoke, following up with fast stunning and disarming spells.

"Very well done!" A voice shouted; the smoke washing away to reveal a tall, well-built man. "You need to work a little more on your stunning though, I barely felt a thing." He picked up his wand, then lifted the barrier and returned the lights. "The first thing you should know about this subject is something an old Professor taught you. 'Constant Vigilance!' It is something Mr Potter here demonstrated exceedingly well." His voice was a deep baritone, and Harry felt that he rather liked it.

"Sir?" Harry lowered his wand only a fraction.

"Ha!" He looked around the classroom, "I am Professor Gideon Deadbolt, and I will be instructing you all on how to defend yourselves against any attacks. Magical," He looked at Ron, still holding his chair, and chuckled, "or otherwise. Mr Weasley, you can put your chair down now." Ron murmured his thanks, and sat down.

"When did you know?" Deadbolt asked, talking to Harry.

"My Patronus sir. It got dirty."

"Ha! Fantastic observation. Mr Weasley," he fixed him with an amused stare, "I thought you would be a little more familiar with your own brothers' work?" Ron looked nonplussed, "I used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, with a little charm of my own." Ron was again blushing.

"As for the rest of you, you'd be good to follow Mr Potter's example in future. He has quite the knack for speedy spell work." He winked at Harry, who felt his cheeks go red. He decided on the spot, he definitely liked this Defence Against the dark Arts teacher.

The lesson ended all too soon for Harry. He had gotten to practice against Professor Deadbolt again, and so had the rest of the class. Ron had tried to get Deadbolt in a headlock after a stray _Incendio_ had singed his eyebrows. Instead, he ended up flat on his back. Parvati had gotten over her initial anger about having a man teach her defence when he had shown her how to grip her wand properly for duelling. Harry suspected that there was more to it when she said 'Is this how you grip _your_ wand sir?' Even Hermione had enjoyed the lesson, showing with great precision how to disarm the professor with a well-placed tickling charm. The girls in the class had added this to their list of reasons why they liked 'Professor Dreamboat'. Harry had smirked when he heard Lavender Brown call Deadbolt that, but he had to admit that it wasn't without merit.

"Now class, before you go I have a couple of things to say. Firstly," he cast a beaming smile around the room, "Great work today! I had heard some information about your previous teachers, but this lesson just proves how wrong that was."

"Yeah right!" Ron mumbled, and Harry suppressed a laugh.

"There are some fine Witches and Wizards in this room, and you should all be proud. Secondly, and for some of you more importantly, there will be an announcement at dinner which you will find 'spellbinding'!" Deadbolt's eyes twinkled suspiciously like Dumbledore's, "Ha! Off you go. Oh, Mr Potter," he added, "I almost forgot. Come here for a second?"

"Yes sir?" Harry said, waving off an excitable Ron.

"You did some fantastic work today, more so than the rest of your class," Harry tried not to go red, "I think I'll give you twenty house points, but I didn't want to reward you so openly. It would have discouraged the rest."

"Thank you, sir." Harry said, secretly proud of his work today. It had taken his mind away from Malfoy for a while.

"You should definitely be at dinner tonight Harry," Professor Deadbolt had that twinkle in his eye again, "It would be a shame that a Wizard as talented as you should miss out on all the fun!"

~X~

Draco Malfoy had been in decidedly better shape than he was right now. Apparently, according to Madame Pomfrey at least, being struck by lightning wasn't all together beneficial for a Wizard's health. What he could remember of the accident involved Potter swooping down out of the cloud like some Merlin forsaken bird of prey, and snatching him out of the air. There was also a glint of gold, which he assumed to be the snitch. Bloody brilliant, not only had Potter played hero, but he had gone and won the match! Draco had got nothing but a pain in the neck the size of a Hippogriff and a week of confinement in the Hospital Wing. If he was at home, his father would have ordered the best doctors by now. That thought however, brought a sour taste to his mouth. Father would probably have me Marked too. Draco swallowed. It was probably best that he was here, but not only did he have to apologise to Potter, now he had to thank him too. He decided that it was probably worth it. He could endure a few days of Hospital Wing food.

Draco awoke a few hours later, disorientated and thirsty. He groped around his bedside table for a glass of water, but touched something cold and round. He blearily opened one eye, found his wand and cast a groggy _Lumos_. His face instantly fell. He banged it back down and drank his water in three gulps. Of all the insulting, low, devious, positively _Slytherin_ things Potter could do, he was both angry and slightly impressed. As he fell asleep for a second time, his head was filled with plans within plans. Once he got out of this infernal prison, he would get Potter back for giving him the golden Snitch.

Draco had never been one for dreams. They were the sad delusion of the lower classes, his father had told him, used only by those who were too stupid to solve their own problems in the light of day. According to Lucius, Merlin never dreamt, nor did Salazar Slytherin. They had glorious visions which were made beautiful manifest. Draco had thought the whole thing was as believable as dancing Skrewt-dung. Still, his nights were always silent, restful and dreamless. Until tonight.

Draco found himself in front of Malfoy Manor. It looked just as it always had, stern gates imposing their presence, sprawling grounds for miles around. Yet something seemed wrong about this place. It didn't feel like home. Draco found himself itching, unaware that he had even started. His left forearm was red and raw. He pulled the sleeve of his robe down and moved forward.

"Who goes there?" A voice boomed, echoing in the valley that surrounded the Manor. Draco thought that the Manor was on a hill.

"Who goes there?" The voice repeated.

"Draco; son of Lucius Malfoy." The gates swung open silently. The manor was, in Draco's mind, a marvellous replica. Everything that he knew about his home was perfectly represented. Try as he might though, he just couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness.

"-but what about the Potter boy?" Draco heard his father's voice from the drawing room.

"I have faith in you Lucius. The boy will come to me now." The cold, high whisper of Voldemort sent shivers down Draco's back. He felt a sharp pain on his head, and span around to see Professor Snape with a finger over his lips, indicating Draco should remain silent. He briefly wondered why he felt pain in a dream as he watched Snape stopper a single platinum blond hair, before disapparating with a deafening pop. His arm started to itch again, but this time Draco fought the urge to scratch. He could hear footsteps from the drawing room.

He ran. The hallways of the manor dissolved into one long passage, with only a pinprick of light at the end. Draco's heart was racing, and a single bead of sweat worked its way down the contours of his face. He had never known terror like this. The faster he went, the louder the footsteps became. Soon they were huge booms echoing throughout the manor like a magical earthquake. Draco tried looking, but lost his footing. He fell.

The floor he was expecting never came. Instead, he was performing a very tricky dive on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. He was on the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, and the students had packed the bleachers. The cheering made Draco's ears ring, and he was sure he just spotted the snitch hovering over one of the goalposts. He pulled up as soon as he could, levelling his broom off and taking a proper look around. His arm was itching beneath the bracer which made up part of his Slytherin kit. Dumbledore was flying around the pitch serenely on an old Cleansweep Seven, repeating 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!' to a floating copy of _Witch Weekly_. Draco laughed, the sun piercing through the clouds as he did so. For a single moment, one unique time in his life, Draco felt truly high-spirited. The sun in his eyes, the breeze which was blowing through his hair, the sheer passion and potential he felt lifted him higher than his broom ever could. It couldn't last. It started getting colder, and Draco could see his breath fog in front of him. Up ahead of him, a blizzard raged on, pelting the lake with huge bullets of snow. Draco felt a chill that wasn't entirely the cold overtake him. A laughter from behind caught his attention. His arm started itching worse than ever as he caught sight of Voldemort, flanked by Draco's father.

"Don't run boy," Lucius shouted, "You'll not escape your destiny!"

Draco urged his broom forward, quickly undoing the leather thonging on his bracer. It felt like ants were chewing his skin. He let it fall, pulling back his sleeve as best he could. His forearm was covered in red blotches, which stung angrily against the wind. Draco sailed into the snowstorm, heading higher in an attempt to lose them. Only a madman would follow him. He mentally slapped himself as he realised his mistake.

There was another flash of gold. That damned snitch had just flown past his face. He dove after it without thinking, banking on the updrafts like an experienced seabird. There was an almighty clap of thunder, and a column of lightning shot to the ground. It hit the lake dead on, which caused the water underneath to roil, and the ice to crack. He didn't know why, but Draco couldn't bring himself to stare into the lake. Pieces of ice flew upwards, and Draco had to cover his face.

Voldemort and his father were catching up. Draco couldn't see beyond the end of his broom, and a palpable sense of dread filled his being. He wouldn't make it out alive. This would be one of those dreams where the dreamer died before they woke up, except he wouldn't wake up. The snitch flew past again, and Draco had the urgent need to catch it. If he caught it, it would end all his problems. Voldemort, his father, the storm, they would all vanish if he could just catch that tiny golden ball.

The snow increased, plastering Draco's hair to his face and drenching his clothes in a second. His mind, however, was soley focussed on catching the snitch.

It drew him down, spiralling off into a dive. The snitch was close, close enough to catch. He reached forward, and as he stretched, he saw it. He gasped, nearly losing control of the broom. The red blotches, the itching and scratching, and the angry pain had left him with the something terrible; something which horrified him to even look at. The Dark Mark. It was ugly, black and moving. It pulsed and Draco could almost feel the snake slithering. The snitch was still flying nearby, but as he focussed on it, the metal casing morphed into a face. A face with tell-tale green eyes, unmistakably messy hair, and a lightning scar on his forehead. Potter's miniature head was now fluttering about a metre from his outstretched arm. All he had to do was reach forward and grab him.

"Do it boy!" shrieked Voldemort. The whole scene had come to a standstill, creating a tableau which Draco found utterly bizarre. Voldemort and Lucius were behind him, seemingly unable to move forwards, Draco had stopped dead in his tracks, and Dumbledore was circling everyone on his broom, with a decidedly more determined look in his eye. Draco's arm snaked forward, his fingers stretching out, but Draco wasn't moving them.

"It's the Mark Draco, refuse it!" Dumbledore shouted. He realised that his entire dream had boiled down to this moment. Draco didn't want the Mark, but he didn't want Dumbledore either. And there was snitch-Potter darting about in front of his face. His hand had almost closed around it.

"Your other arm Draco, use your other arm!" Dumbledore looked almost as panicked as Draco felt. Left or right. Voldemort, and father, or Dumbledore. Draco decided, and did the only thing that seemed logical. He screamed, flung himself forward, and dove off his broom.

~X~

"What in Merlin's name are you doing Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously. He had just witnessed the Slytherin scream at the top of his lungs, and sit bolt upright. Unfortunately for Malfoy, the snitch he had caught was fluttering inches from his face. He had swallowed it. Harry thumped his chest and it popped out onto his hand. Malfoy was coughing and wheezing.

"Bad dream?" Harry tried his upmost not to laugh. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked shaken. He frantically rolled up his pyjama sleeves, searching for something. "Malfoy, are you alright?" Harry was a little worried. He had never seen Malfoy act in such a peculiar, vulnerable manner before. His eyes were frenzied and unfocussed.

Madame Pomfrey bustled over, spelling Malfoy calm and forcing a potion down his neck. She fixed Harry with a stern glare. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be here Mr Potter, do you?"

"Madame Pomfrey, I asked him to be here." Malfoy lied from behind him, "five minutes won't kill me."

"Very well Mr Malfoy. _Five_ minutes." She retreated from the bed, pulling the curtains around them.

"Thanks Mal-"

"Come to gloat, have you?" Malfoy snapped.

"What are you on about?" Harry was a little confused. Even for Malfoy, this was harsh.

"This!" he shouted, plucking the snitch out of the air.

"I thought you might like-"

"Well you thought wrong!" Harry couldn't miss the venom in his voice. Malfoy was acting quite strange still. Silence hung over them and Harry was strangely reminded of the incident in Little Whinging where the Dementor had attacked him and his cousin, Dudley Dursley. Though this time Harry felt like the Muggle and he was sure that only Malfoy could see this Dementor.

Malfoy was letting the snitch fly around his fingers in a lazy fashion, and looked determined not to meet Harry's stare. "Why haven't you kept this?" He mumbled, "feel sorry for me? That bloody Gryffindor hero-complex again?"

Harry laughed. So that was why he was annoyed. Before Malfoy had the chance to sneer, he responded. "You know I didn't catch that snitch, right?" Malfoy's head span round faster than Harry could blink.

"What?" He demanded.

"I was too busy rushing down to grab you!" Harry ran a hand through his hair, "a thanks would be nice, by the way, I did save your life."

Malfoy actually looked pained. "Saved is such a _strong_ term, Potter, surely-"

"Saved. Your. Life." Harry swiped for the snitch, but it darted away. Malfoy caught it again deftly.

"The game was cancelled then. So what use is this?"

"Merlin Malfoy, I thought you followed Quidditch. I lived with Muggles for eleven years of my life and even _I_ know that the winning seeker gets to keep each snitch they catch." Malfoy's face went through arrogance to confusion to shock and joy within a matter of seconds. Harry thought that it was amusing. He snorted.

"Very elegant Potter. So, I won then?" His voice was suspicious, which was to be expected. Malfoy probably thought it was some trick.

"Yes. It pains me to say this, but-" Malfoy let out a whoop, "-but you actually beat me. Well done." Harry wouldn't admit it, but he found the Slytherin's reaction to be quite endearing. Like Buckbeak, he told himself, like an attracti- he stopped mid-thought.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" Harry asked him.

"I'm not saying it again Potter! One thank you is all you are getting!" They slipped into easy conversation, discussing the match in greater detail. Harry asked a few questions, but Malfoy couldn't remember much of the accident. This was the person Harry wanted to know and become friends with. Foolishly he agreed to play Malfoy at Wizard's chess, and as they set up the board – a knight shouting obscenities art Harry when he placed it on the Queen's spot – he made a mental note to save Malfoy's life more often.

~X~

The Great Hall was buzzing with anticipation for the after-dinner announcement Professor Deadbolt had promised. Despite Harry's group being the only one on the new teacher's first day, the whole school had found out in record time. There was talk of extendable ears involved.

Dumbledore stood up to speak, when Harry came crashing through the doors, out of breath and holding a stitch. He'd spent far too long with Malfoy, and completely forgot about Professor Deadbolt's announcement. Dumbledore just smiled and pointed Harry to take a seat at the Gryffindor table. Ron looked relieved, and Hermione cross. He hadn't told them where he was going, and he doubted that they would be sympathetic to him playing Wizard's chess with Malfoy all afternoon. Hermione probably wouldn't help him with his Charms homework.

The headmaster called for silence. "As most of you are undoubtedly already aware, we have the immeasurable honour of welcoming amongst our number a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," a ripple of murmurs were silenced by Dumbledore raising his hand, "I'm sure you will all make the Professor feel right at home. May I present to you Professor Gideon Deadbolt!" Dumbledore sat down, and Deadbolt stood up. The students gave a huge round of applause, and most of Harry's classmates whooped and whistled him.

"Thank you all for your fantastic welcome." He smiled. The room erupted in further cheering, clapping and welcoming. Harry found himself on his feet along with most of his table. "I am sure that you will prove to be most able students!" Again there was cheering. Somebody, probably a Slytherin Harry thought, yelled 'Apart from Longbottom!'

"Ha!" deadbolt laughed, "Mr Longbottom has already proven himself an outstanding duellist. You would do worse than to emulate him." It was Gryffindor's turn to laugh now. "To continue, I hope I can live up to the reputation that this prestigious school has, and more importantly, I hope I can survive the year!" Harry saw the other teachers chuckling amongst themselves, except for Snape, who looked just as sour as ever. "Now, after the debacle of the Triwizard Tournament," the hall instantly fell silent, all eyes turned upon him, "the need for every single one of you to be able to defend yourselves has become of paramount performance. Whilst the Ministry may tell you otherwise," scoffs from the teachers punctuated this, "there are indeed dark forces who seek nothing but destruction. Therefore, to better protect yourselves, I am reviving an old Hogwarts tradition. I hear that an old predecessor of mine may have tried this before, but it is needed now more than it has ever been." Deadbolt paused for dramatic effect, and Harry edged forward in his seat. This was going to be good. "I am of course referring to the Duelling Club!" There were a few cheers, but then a stunned silence. Someone clapped. Then the upper years burst into uproarious laughter.

Deadbolt made to sit down, "I don't suppose you will want to hear about the grand prize then?" He asked quietly. Harry had to hand it to him; Deadbolt certainly knew how to hold an audience. As one, the noise stopped. "There will be a tournament of skill for which the winner will receive five hundred house points," the hall gasped, and Harry knew that many points almost guaranteed the winner's house the House Cup, "one thousand Galleons," a bigger gasp. Ron was gripping Harry's arm like a vice, "and a Goblin-made, solid silver and Dragon Heartstring duelling wand!" Deadbolt calmly sat back down, a twinkle firmly in his eye, and the hall went mental. Ron already had his wand out, practising jinxes, and Seamus Finnegan had set fire to a roast potato. Harry just looked on, Deadbolt had said it would be spellbinding, but this was a kind of spell no wand could work. Harry laughed.

**Reviews: **It just makes sense. Review this please, it allows me to improve and you to enjoy it more!


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